Killer Takes All (24 page)

Friday, March 18, 2005
4:45 p.m.

S
tacy’s plane landed in New Orleans exactly on schedule. As it taxied toward the gate, she reviewed the events of the day. After learning the dentist who had identified Dick Danson had been murdered, she had U-turned and headed back to the Lodge. Billie had reregistered, getting her room back before it had even been cleaned. From there, they had called Chief Battard—to inform him that Billie was staying and to ask if Stacy could meet with him quickly to explain why.

And to ask for his help.

On their way, Stacy had filled Billie in on what she wanted her to do: look into any missing-persons cases in the area at the time of Danson’s suicide, and if one appeared, to somehow uncover if he had been a patient of Dr. Mark Carlson’s. She also wanted her to find a way to gain access to the dentist’s records and cross-reference them against the ones used to ID Danson’s corpse.

Chief Battard would be instrumental in making that happen. Medical records were damn near impossible to access without official authorization.

They’d met Chief Battard in his office at headquarters. Stacy had run her theory by him and asked for his help. To his credit, he hadn’t laughed.

And he’d agreed to help.

Stacy suspected the prospect of a few more days with the sultry Billie had something to do with his equanimity.

Stacy exited the plane. She was right about one thing—she was certain of it.

Dick Danson was alive. He was the White Rabbit.

And he was a killer.

As soon as she had cleared the terminal, she turned on her phone. She had three messages waiting. Judging by the callback numbers, all three were from Leo.

She’d spoken with him first thing that morning, had told him the trip had been a bust and that she was flying home.

A lot had happened since she’d made that call.

More, apparently, than she’d even realized.

While she made her way to the parking garage, she checked the messages. The first call was, indeed, from Leo. He was upset. His voice shaking.

Kay’s…gone. She’s…someone…the White Rabbit…she may be dead. Call me as soon as you touch down.

The second was from Alice, not her father. She was crying, so hard Stacy could barely make out what she was saying. Her message, in essence, mirrored her father’s. She was scared.

Grimly, Stacy quickened her pace. The third was again from Leo. According to her cell’s time stamp, it had come in just before she touched down. Malone had gotten a search warrant and was at the house now. He didn’t know what to do.

A search warrant.

The ball was in motion now.

She stepped outside the terminal and the humid New Orleans air caught her in a bear hug. Crossing the traffic lanes to the parking garage, she found her vehicle, unlocked it and tossed her bag inside.

Minutes later, Stacy was on the airport access road, heading toward I-10 East. She anticipated the trip taking about fifteen minutes, barring accidents, construction or a game in the Superdome.

Stacy tried Leo, got his recording and left a message. She rang Malone, also with no luck. She used the rest of the drive to review what she knew of the recent events and to prepare herself for what awaited.

The playing cards were dead. Now Kay had gone missing. Malone and his partner had gotten a search warrant—which meant they had evidence enough to convince a judge they had just cause.

What did they have on Leo?

She meant to find out.

Stacy reached Leo’s mansion in what she suspected was record time. Judging by the number of cars parked out front, one of them a NOPD cruiser, Malone and company were still there.

She angled her own vehicle into a narrow spot, hopped out and hurried to the front door.

Mrs. Maitlin, looking pale and shaken, answered. “Valerie,” Stacy said, holding out a hand. “I heard. What’s happening?”

The woman grasped it and glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at Stacy. “They’re tearing the place apart. As if Mr. Leo could have done a thing to Mrs. Noble. And poor Alice, she’s the one who…the blood—”

“Stacy!” Leo rushed across the foyer. “Thank God.” He reached the door and drew her inside. “This is unreal. Insane. First, Kay disappearing. Then this search—”

“Did you call your lawyer?”

“Yes. They had already visited him, shown him the warrant. Said it looked legal. That there was nothing I could do but cooperate.”

“If you’re innocent, you have nothing to—”

He cut her off, looking hurt. “If I’m innocent? You doubt me, Stacy?”

“That’s not what I meant. Focus, Leo. They won’t find anything—it will force them to look elsewhere.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Alice, huddled on the parlor couch. She looked lost.

Even though her heart went out to the teenager, she kept her attention on Leo. “Was there any kind of message left at the scene?”

“No, not that I saw.”

“It sounds as if they suspect foul play. Why?”

He looked at her blankly. “The scene,” she said softly. “There were signs of a struggle? Blood?”

He nodded, understanding. “Yes. And I…I sent Alice to look for her.” His voice broke. “She saw—It’s my fault.”

“How’d he get in, Leo?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “They asked me if she ever left her door unlocked.”

Which meant there had been no evidence of a break-in.

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them she did not.”

She laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Where are they?”

“Upstairs.”

“I’ll be back. Hold tight.”

Stacy headed upstairs, then followed the sound of voices. She saw that the place had been torn apart. Typical cops, she thought, as she found them in her room. Going through her skivvies drawer.

“Having fun, Detective?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Killian.”

“They’re a size five. Not so sexy, but comfortable.”

Tony laughed out loud, Malone shut the drawer, looking a bit flushed. “Warrant covered the entire property. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I know. Could I have a word with you?”

He glanced at his partner, who motioned for him to go, then joined her in the hall.

“Clock’s ticking.”

“So I’ll get right to the point. You’re wrong about Leo.”

“That so? And what makes you so certain?”

“Dick Danson’s alive. He—”

“Who?”

“Leo’s former partner. He and Leo parted acrimoniously. Supposedly, he committed suicide last year.”

“Ran off a cliff in Carmel, California. It’s all coming back to me. That’s why you were out there. Your hunch.”

“Yes.”

“I thought that hunch had turned out to be gas.”

Quickly, she explained about the suicide and the fact that Danson was identified by his dental records.

“Proof enough for me,” he said, glancing pointedly at his watch.

“Me, too. Until this morning when I found out the dentist who provided those records was murdered not that long after.” She paused. “His killer was never caught.”

For the space of a heartbeat, she thought she had him. Then taking her by the elbow, he led her farther from the other officer. “Ran a little financial check on your buddy Leo Noble. Seems business is good. Very good. Recently did a couple licensing deals. Worth millions, Stacy.
Millions.
”

“So? What does that have to do with—”

“Kay gets half. Of everything. Past. Present. And future.”

She stared at him, understanding.
Greed. One of the oldest motives for murder.

She shook her head. “He loves her. She’s the mother of his child and his best friend.” Even as she said the words, she acknowledged how naive she sounded.

She pressed on, anyway. “There wasn’t a message from the White Rabbit on this one, was there?” She could tell by his expression that there wasn’t. “No message. No body. Doesn’t fit the White Rabbit MO.”

“All the victims had ties to Leo. He was the recipient of the first three notes and the last was found in his office. And, he knows the game better than anyone else alive.”

“Clark Dunbar is having an affair with Kay. Did you know that?”

She saw by his expression that he didn’t.

“I saw them together. Late one night.” She motioned toward her bedroom. “My window faces the guest house entrance.”

He took out his notebook. “When was this?”

“The night before I left for California. Wednesday.”

He noted the fact. “You’re certain it was Dunbar?”

“Absolutely. I couldn’t make out who it was, so I opened my window. I heard his voice.”

Spencer cocked an eyebrow. “Opened the window?”

“My curiosity got the better of me. Have you talked to Dunbar?”

“He’s out of town. Had a long weekend off.”

“And the woman he’s having an affair with disappears, leaving a scene that suggests foul play. Convenient.”

Spencer closed the spiral notebook and tucked it into his breast pocket. “We’ll check it out.”

This time it was she who caught his elbow. “Danson’s alive,” she said. “He’s the White Rabbit. And he’s exacting revenge on Leo and his family.”

“Get a clue, Killian. Noble created this whole White Rabbit thing to get away with killing his wife.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it does. It’s genius. A big, elaborate smoke screen. Even
you’re
part of the plan, Stacy.” He shook off her hand and walked down the hall.

Friday, March 18, 2005
6:30 p.m.

S
tacy watched him walk away, a knot in the pit of her stomach. The past rushed up, so thick and bitter it nearly choked her. This wouldn’t be the first time her judgment had proved faulty. Wouldn’t be the first time she had been deceived. Her good intentions used.

She struggled to breathe evenly. To get a grip on her emotions.

The past was
not
repeating itself. She wasn’t that woman anymore.

“Stacy?”

She turned. Alice stood just inside her bedroom door. Everything about her body language suggested she might bolt at any moment.

The teenager brought a finger to her lips, pointed to the room where the officers were conducting their search, then motioned her over.

Stacy glanced toward the officers, then strolled past the open doorway, before ducking into Alice’s room.

Alice drew her across the room. Her hands were trembling, clammy. She stopped at the desk and turned on the computer. The device came to life and quickly began loading.

Stacy looked questioningly at Alice and saw that the teenager was near tears.

“I know what the police think. I heard them talking. It’s not true. Dad didn’t do anything to Mom. Or anyone else. I know he didn’t.”

“How, Alice? How do you know?”

She nodded and turned back to the computer terminal. With a few keystrokes, she called up a screen with dated entries. She clicked on the most recent, dated today at 3:00 p.m. It was an e-mail message.

The Mouse, Five and Seven have been eliminated. The Queen is compromised. The Cheshire Cat is making her move; her claws are long, her teeth sharp.

What’s your response?

Stacy knew what she was looking at; a game of White Rabbit in progress.

Not any game, either.

The game.

“I thought I’d better…I wanted you to see this first. Because of Mom. And Dad.”

Her Mom. The Queen of Hearts.

Stacy quelled her excitement, her urge to shake information out of the teenager. “Who’s the White Rabbit, Alice?”

“I don’t know. I met him in an RPG chat room. But he’s my friend, he wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else.”

“Your friend?” Stacy worked to keep her voice low, her tone measured. “People are dying, Alice.”

“I know how it looks, but it can’t—” She clasped her hands together. “It’s just a game. Right?”

The teenager longed to be convinced, reassured. Unfortunately, Stacy couldn’t do that. “Rosie Allen is dead. Her killer left a message by her body—poor little mouse, drowned in a pool of tears. August Wright and Roberto Zapeda are also dead. The killer left a message by their bodies as well—the roses are red now. Judging by the cards and message left in your dad’s office, the pair represented the Five and Seven of Spades.”

She paused to let her words sink in. “Now your mother is missing. And coincidentally, in your game the Queen of Hearts is ‘compromised.’ Is it simply a game, Alice? You tell me.”

The girl broke down. “I di…didn’t know,” she managed to say around sobs. “Until…Mom…then I…then I knew the White Rabbit was using me to…decide—”

“Let’s figure this out,” Stacy said softly. “We’ll do it together. Figure out who he is and stop him.”

Alice wiped her tears and met Stacy’s eyes. “How? Tell me what to do.”

Stacy nodded, proud of the teenager. “First, the Queen is compromised. What does that mean?”

“It’s a game strategy. Incapacitate one of the players, then move on to another. Return later for the…for the kill.”

Return for the kill. Of course.

Kay was still alive.

“You know what this means, Alice. Your mother’s alive.”

The young woman’s eyes widened, filling once more with tears. This time with relief, Stacy suspected.

“Who is he?” Stacy asked again. “You must have some idea.”

“I don’t. Honestly.” She wrung her hands. “We met in an RPG chat room. We became…friends. He asked if I wanted to play.”

“How long ago did you meet?”

“Eight months ago. Maybe a year.”

“Did he ever suggest a meeting?”

“No.” She tilted her chin up. “But I wouldn’t have gone. I’m not that stupid.”

She flushed as if realizing that maybe she was, considering the turn of events.

“I know he’s really smart. We discussed everything from anthropology, to psychology, to art. He was knowledgeable about them all.”

A real Renaissance man.

Stacy glanced up, to the bookshelf above the computer. She took in the eclectic hodgepodge of titles, everything from fiction to law texts and gaming manuals. She even had a copy of the
DSM-IV
, the clinician’s guide to mental illness. The DPD shrink kept a copy in his office.

“How about his age?” Stacy asked.

Alice screwed up her face in thought. “Older than me, I’m pretty sure. He seemed mature.”

Seemed mature.
Which illustrated one of the dangers of meeting people online, Stacy thought. Being unable to accurately gauge a person’s age or character. Having to depend on their version of the truth.

“Older? As old as your father?”

“Not
old.
” She shook her head. “We liked the same music and stuff. When I talked about my parents, he understood. Totally.”

“About your parents,” she repeated. “What did you tell him about them?”

Alice looked embarrassed, upset. “I complained about how they treated me like a baby. How they wouldn’t let me go to university, stuff like that.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Considering the circumstances now, I wish I could take it all back.”

Stacy pressed on. “Playing online, how does it work?”

“It’s a one-on-one. I’m battling the monsters of Wonderland.”

“The mouse, the Five and Seven of Spades and so forth.”

“Exactly. The narrative is the same, but I’m the future’s only hope.”

“It’s up to you to kill the evil White Rabbit and all his Wonderland henchmen, thus saving the world.”

She nodded. “The White Rabbit controls the game, absolutely. He creates the traps, the monsters, everything. Before beginning the game, I’m notified of every monster I’ll face. But not when or where the confrontation will take place.

“I’m also informed of their particular strengths, powers and weapons. It helps level the playing field. And eliminates the temptation to improvise as you go, creating just the power or weapon necessary to defeat the player.”

“Is play determined by the roll of dice, as in the live version?”

“Yes. Electronic dice. I receive the result of all moves against me from the White Rabbit. And the result of my moves against the others from him as well.”

“How do you know he’s telling the truth? He’s got the dice.”

“What would be the point of lying?”

In a regular game, with a sane game master, sure.

But with an obvious whack job like this guy?

“My friend Cassie, could she have been part of this game?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so.”

“Did you and she discuss White Rabbit or this game at Café Noir?”

“No.”

“You’re telling me the truth, right? It’s really important.”

“I didn’t, I swear. We talked about gaming in general, but not White Rabbit. It’s not really done, and certainly not with a stranger.”

Stacy believed her. “Who knew you were playing?”

“No one.”

That she found hard to believe. She told her so.

“It’s true! White Rabbit’s that way. Dad suspected, I suppose. He knows I game. It’s not unusual for an online gamer to have several scenarios going at once.”

“Do you know what monsters lay ahead?”

Alice typed in a code, accessing the game. She read them aloud. “The Mad Hatter and March Hare. The King of Hearts. The Cheshire Cat. And the White Rabbit.”

“When do you have to make your move?”

“Soon.”

“Can you put him off? Delay your move?”

“No more than twenty-four hours. If I fail to act, I’m automatically eliminated.”

And in this game, being eliminated was fatal.

“I think I know who he is, Alice.”

“Who? Not Dad.”

“No, not your dad. Dick Danson.”

“Dad’s old partner? But he’s—”

“Dead? Maybe not.” Stacy explained about her trip to California and what she had learned. “I don’t have any proof yet, but I will.”

“Soon?”

“I’m going to try. The first thing we need to do is get Detectives Malone and Sciame in here. Show them what you’ve just shown me.”

A look of panic crossed her features. “What if they don’t believe me? What if they think—”

“They won’t,” she said, gently squeezing her hand. “I’ll be right here.”

“Promise?”

Stacy did, then went to the door and called Spencer and Tony. Malone poked his head out the door of the bedroom on the other side of hers.

“I think you might want to take a look at this,” she said, motioning them over.

They crossed to the computer. Stacy swiveled the monitor toward them, watching Spencer’s face as he scanned the documents, seeing the moment he understood what he was looking at.

He faced Alice. “You have some explaining to do, Ms. Noble.”

Stacy stepped in, filling them in on what Alice had told her: how she had become involved in the game, where she had met the White Rabbit, how the game was played online. And that, if they were right, Kay was still alive. “It wasn’t until her mother disappeared that she realized she was involved,” she finished. “Then she did the right thing and came forward.”

Spencer sent her a look that clearly communicated that
he’d
be the judge of that. “You have no idea who the White Rabbit is?”

“None.” She looked at Stacy as if for confirmation. She saw that the girl’s lips trembled.

“We’ll have to confiscate your computer,” he said. “We can trace—”

Stacy cut him off. “Can I see you in the hall? Now?”

He nodded, though he looked irritated. He followed her to the hall and faced her, hands on hips. “What?”

“You can’t take her computer.”

He arched his eyebrows in question. “That so? Why?”

“Alice has to respond to the White Rabbit in twenty-four hours or her character is eliminated. And in this game, being eliminated really is the end of the line.”

“Shit.” He looked away, then back. “You have a suggestion, Killian?”

“Copy all her files. I bet she’s got a built-in CD burner, so it shouldn’t take too long. Plug them in downtown.”

“Just leave the door between her and that bastard open?”

“Closing it might be more dangerous for her. It’d also tip him that we’re onto him. In the meantime, get a court subpoena to force her e-mail provider to release the name and address on the White Rabbit’s e-mail account.”

He gazed at her a moment, eyes narrowed, then nodded tersely.

Several moments later, Tony was on his cell, setting their plan in motion. Alice sat slumped on the edge of the bed, arms curled around her middle. Stacy sat beside her, listening to Tony.

“What’s going on in here, Stacy?”

Before she could respond, Alice caught sight of him. “Dad!” she cried.

She ran to her father and threw herself into his arms. “I didn’t mean for this to happen! I didn’t know, I promise I didn’t!”

“Baby, what—”

“Mr. Noble,” Spencer interrupted, “I need to take you down to headquarters for further questioning.”

“No!” That came from Alice. She spun toward Spencer. “He didn’t do anything! Don’t you see—”

“It’s okay, Pumpkin.” Leo separated himself from her. “They’re just going to ask me some questions. I’ll be back in an hour.”